Board Games
by Aseru
Summary: AU; One-shot personification work piece; "You should have just stayed away from him, if- like you said- you knew he would play you. Or, don't tell me - you wanted to be the one that hooked him- changed him; thought you would straighten him out. By your glare, I guess I'm right."


_Hey. I think I'm cleaning out my folders.  
This is a one-shot.  
I already know, this is a effed up story premise.  
I've lived it, I've learned it, I've done it.  
Moral of this story: People aren't nice. Everyone should expect someone in the course of their life to hate them. You can't please everyone- you'll get hurt trying._

Maybe that's why I hate Orihime.  
Hmm.

**_On with the one-shot._**

* * *

**_Board Games_**

* * *

_We never 'broke up'- at least in a conventional sense of the term. Then again, I don't think we ever really clarified that we were 'together'- two men being in a relationship is still kinda taboo where we're from._

_But then again, you don't even know where that is, do you? You don't know anything about him- obviously, because you didn't know me._

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

"Morning, Grimmjow," she calls as she enters the large cafeteria. He looks up at her and I smile at her too. _I'm his friend, why wouldn't I smile?_ That's her logic anyway. I hate these women here- they don't know his rules.

I watch that calculated grin split his face as she dances over to the table. She's a beautiful girl, with her bleach blond hair that is a bit to punk for his 'usual' but her breasts more than make up for it. Her smile is poised on pissed every time she sees me- almost like she knows. But she doesn't- we're more than sure of that.

She twelve weeks into her 'treatment', meaning she has two more left approximately. She'd been getting around before he started school here. And when I moved into town- back into his life, she immediately seemed to dislike me. _She was a smart girl_. She gives me that look that says she knows - knows I can end her fun any second - but she doesn't.

She's an overbearing girlfriend who he doesn't - and will never - give two shits about. But he's already well into his game- she's dependant. I came at an awkward time in his game. We call it a Red Square- you know the ones you should be weary of. There are three of them in his game- just about three blocks in from the beginning, dead in the middle and then he second to last square is also Red. It's the next one on his journey along the board. I'm not looking forward to that square- I never do.

The first Red Square is the first sexual encounter between Player and Game Piece- he will purposefully make it a weak encounter.

The second Red Square is prelude by a large fight that he will start because she's still sleeping around on him- weather she is or not is a moot point. The object of this Blue Square is to establish a sense of need for the Player by the Piece. This large fight will be ended by the Red Square where he won't hold back. He'll make her _know_ that he's amazing- which will always lead on to a Green Square, where normalcy is seemingly achieved. This second Red Square is usually about a 24 hour time period- in which a number of sexual acts will happen.

The final Red Square is always at a time that is predetermined, because the square that will immediately follow is always necessary to be established ahead of time. And depending on what will follow things will play out scripted ways.

This blond's will be an immediate Purple Square. She will be immediately discharged in a way that will bring herself the most self-loathing. This game - the ones similar to this blond's - are his favorite. He loves ruining people like her. Also because he's getting paid to do it.

He called me - as he always does if he can't talk to me about it face to face soon enough - when he was oddly corner by a large number of boys, eight I think, that she had taken her claws to. They had found out about his past explorations somehow and asked him to do it for them - to this very woman.

Two of them had met me outside the diner where we had dinner two nights ago, before he had to go to work. They had seen me with him - they knew me too somehow. I don't play his games, but I've ended more than one of them that I didn't like too much. Some women are far _too_ dependant when he gives them the bait. They made sure I wasn't going to stop him - or tried to, with idle threats I quickly baited out- but I didn't care, I had no problems with him doing this to her. She seemed small enough, regardless that with her pride she would be hard to shake off after her last Purple Square. I'd probably have to intervene - but I'm fine with that, then she'll know he's mine.

But her eyes digging into my skin bother him enough to quickly draws her attention back to him and they enter a quick conversation before, with a small peck on the cheek, she's off out of the cafeteria again.

"She hates me," I tell him. He scoffs.

"And I care," he huffs back, taking another bite of his eggs. I hum and leave my eyes on the doorway where she'd disappeared. _She hate me_ - _I don't care what she thinks_, is the actuality of this exchange that to anyone else might be lost after seeing him hug the blond on his lap.

"How many more, Grimm," I ask him before I can stop myself. Those sky blue eyes are instantly watching me closely, fork-full of dead chicken embryos clicking back to his plate.

"It bothering you," he asks quietly in return, the toe of his boot tapping at the side of my converse. I smile a bit at the discreet affection, before being honest and nodding slightly once.

"More than it used to," I concede. He scoffs slightly his face smirking as he reacquaints with his eggs before responding.

"Then it's over," he replies like it was beyond obvious, "I told you from the start that if it bothered you, I would quit doing it." There's a light in his eyes that I rarely get to see anymore. He's smiling right now, and I know it's only for me - the blood pounding in my burning ears is proof enough of that. "Do you want me to drop her?" I smile a little before letting my eyes lift to meet his glittering blue ones.

"No," I answer, sounding more confident that I feel, "She deserves it if anyone ever has." I smile a bit more as I raise my coffee mug, "Make sure you give her hell, so you can say you went out with a bang." He smiles a bit then pauses.

And after a few seconds, his face splits in an unsafe predatory leer.

"Absolutely, babe." And I nearly choke on my coffee at the husky tone of his voice. God, he'll kill me with it one day - and I'll die happy, _singing halleluiah on my way to hell_.

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

_That's where you messed up._

_Don't expect anything from him - because what you get will never be what you thought you wanted. He's a book in a foreign language to the reader. No, he's worse than that- because someone's translated parts of him wrong in the margins knowing you would try to understand, and the sub notes are only irrelevant useless facts._

_He's a terrible Spanish tutor - who teaches you that the phrase 'I'm a slut' in Spanish means 'hello' is English. He's a terrible person actually- to anyone like you at least._

_I know him- better than you would ever be able to. Because he's mine, the same that I am his._

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

"Fuck, Grimm," growls from my throat even though I barely recognize that it's my voice. He's breathing hard against my neck his forehead against the side of my jaw in a position that should have been awkward. _I swear he was a gymnast in a past life_. But, then again - with one of my legs against his bicep where he has it pinned, the other riding high on his ribcage, and my back bent at an angle that it _should_ be broken- especially with how hard he's pounding into me - maybe I was too.

The sheets feel damp against my shoulders. The pillow that was under my head is now between the bed and wall somewhere - I'll have to dig it out in the morning probably. The blankets that we had been sleeping under are pooled behind his knees, still somehow covering his calves, ankles and feet. It's almost four in the morning. And though I hate being woken up early for nearly any reason, this is one of those _few_ times where I'm okay with being woken up.

He just got home. And he won't be leaving again.

The board games are packed up. There's still the mural on the back wall on our walk in closet- a rather large patch of off-white wall covered with seemingly random pictures of women. _Twenty-three_ women. Each that he had personally ruined, made examples of, or knocked down a few pegs- some for profit others for the fun of it. The blond's picture will be added in the morning- moving from its spot on the desk, out of the frame where right now it's covering a picture of us from senior year of high school, and onto that wall I pay homage to every time I change clothes. _She'll make twenty-four_.

He came home a little before midnight, told me she was gone. He laughed about how she threatened to get a restraining order on him. "Bitch deserved everything I gave her," he added as he pulled me to him and gave me a small kiss- then the topic changed to dinner and he didn't mention her the rest of the night. I made some noodles and sauce while he took a decent length shower. We ate while we flipped between the news and a sitcom on two different channels, and then we went to bed. And he woke me up about half an hour ago, giving me head.

Hence why I was fine with being woken up.

It would have happened either way- three-thirty or seven, time means little on a Sunday.

After we were both beyond satisfied he collapses halfway on me. I chuckle tightly, as he lay on top of me, his head buried in the sheets just above my shoulder. My hand finds its way into his hair at the base of his neck, fiddling it between my fingers as my other hand was splayed open on the small of his back. After a moment where we just laze there, he shifts off me a little, his head moving to rest on my shoulder so I could continue to toy with his shaggy hair. His right hand moves to trail lazy, soothing lines over my ribcage and side. I can feel both of our pulses slowly return to normal, breathing falling back to normal.

I feel dirty - but it feels so good to be dirty with him again. Over a month and a half that I've been here and I haven't been able to sleep with him since. _Damn Board Games_. He won't sleep with me while playing - _not that I'd let him_ - it ruins his moral to sleep with women, which would defiantly put a damper on the game.

I sigh as sleep starts to fall on me, my head turning to him and my nose planting in his hair for a moment. He turns his head to me and shifts again, moving my arm out from under him and pulls me to him, planting my head against his still slightly sweaty chest. I find myself humming in contentment. His fingers are buried in my hair the other one planted low on my back, mimicking the position I had him in a moment ago almost.

I can feel his still semi-hard member against my stomach and smirk against his chest, knowing he'll have morning wood when we wake up again - that I fully plan on enjoying.

His fingers run through my hair slowly and I know he'll go to sleep now - because I don't think he has yet. He hums above me suddenly, "Go back to sleep, Ichigo." I hum again, forcing my arm to move and wrap around his waist, my hand wresting against his spine for a bit in a weak hug. He chuckles softly, but with my ear against his chest I can hear it perfectly, "I'm not going anywhere, babe." I smirk a bit more hearing the sleep in his voice - he'll wait for me to go to sleep before he lets himself do the same.

"Love you, Grimmjow."

He sighs deeply, the sound halfway lulling me to slumber, before he replies to my only half-awake mind. "I love you too, Ichi-berry." I'm not awake enough to yell at him about the nickname.

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

_You should have just stayed away from him, if- like you said- you knew he would play you. Or, don't tell me - you wanted to be the one that hooked him- changed him; thought you would straighten him out. By your glare, I guess I'm right._

_And you know what, you might have, if I hadn't come in when I did. There are reasons I never let him play without a referee- my boy has always loved to lose himself in his games. But he's never lost one yet. And once again, you might have won- had I not gotten here when I did._

_Yeah, I know; I'm a crooked ref. I'll always give him the win, no matter what. Even if I have to call the game for rain when we're getting sunburns._

_Let me say that one last time, he's mine - and he will never be anyone else's_.

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

We get a late lunch the next day, walking to the diner on the corner that we're both in love with.

I feel wonderful in my slightly thin purple v-neck short sleeved t-shirt, and gray skinny jeans with chains on the left hip, completed with my black and white converse. But even better with scratch marks down my back and sides (I'm pretty sure there's a few on the back of my neck, too) and hickies littering my chest and two on my neck that are defiantly visible. My shaggy hair covers the top one on the right side some of the time. But the one just about a half-inch lower I open for the world to see - purple teeth marks dotting the edges of it. My lips and ass still feel raw, regardless that I've taken two showers and am putting on chap stick compulsively again.

I feel like I'm back in high school - and it feels _amazing_. Except here, I don't have to look at my dad every morning while wondering if I put on enough _girly-makeup_ to hide the marks.

Grimmjow's left the top two buttons of his wrinkly old button-up open and I can see one of the lighter bruise makers just inside the left side of his chest, just below his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows - I can see the red, aggravated scratch marks there too. _God, he looks editable_. I know his back is even a bit worse off that mine - he nearly yelled at me that I had to cut my fingernails today. Slightly baggy blue jeans and his black construction boots, that have light blue paint splattered on them from when we helped his neighbor paint her shed last summer - she was a sweet old lady. He's got the small black stud with a small dangly crucifix earring in, the I got him for his last birthday.

He eats quickly, before patting my knee under the table and smiling while telling me he'd be home around eleven while throwing a few bills on the table. I nod as he leaves, still disheartened by him working on a Sunday night - well afternoon, it's a three to eleven shift at the factory on the other side of town.

And as soon as he disappears around the corner and I'm about to finish off my sandwich and coffee before I go home, guess who walks in the door? _Guess._

That's right #24, complete with bitchy looking posse of three. I curse having sat in the middle isle of the room now, as she plops down in the seat he had just left and the three other girls take their positions around us. They seem to make sure that they stayed slight opposite me at least.

"Morning, ladies," I greet them with a fake smile. #24, Tia-something, just glares harder, her green eyes trying to be intimidating. She's failing, miserably. I wonder for a moment if she's ever seen him glare - she might learn something. But the idea is gone quickly - I would rather he _never_ teach her anything again.

"Cut the bullshit, berry," she snaps quietly and no one takes notice. She realizes we're in public and will try to keep from yelling. She won't demean her pride by letting everyone in this diner know she was dumped. But, _I really don't like that name coming from her lips_. _It's what he would always call me - she's his (ex-)girlfriend so she should get to call me it too._ That's her logic anyway.

Now that's bullshit.

"My name is Ichigo," I tell her. I can see her slip a bit at how cold and level my voice is, she recovers quickly though. "You should call me that, and only that, or I might get a bit angry." Now my voice is taunting and she seems pissed, her breathing picking up a touch.

"Well, _Ichigo_." Her head rocks a little with how hard she spits my name and I just smile a little more maliciously - she doesn't see it. "I just wanted to let you know that you should _back the fuck off_." The smile on my lips never lessens, as my head tilts in a mock question. "I know Grimm broke up with my because of something you said or did." I bristle a little, _I like his nickname coming from her lips even less_. This conversation just got personal - I stop her from saying anything else, I'll run circles around her.

"No, _Tia_," I spit just a maliciously, but my face never loses its grin, "I didn't say anything." Her eyes are glaring - I don't care. "Your game was done. I don't know what he picked for your Purple, but I can imagine that it hurt your pride." Her eyes flare a little - in the bag. "He did what he was asked and knowing Grimm_jow_, he did it well." I punctuate his name as a lesson, because that's the only way she should ever _conceive_ his name. "You became dependant on him, just like you got all those other little boys hooked on you." I pause to watch her aggravation escalate a bit more. "How did it feel to get the table turned around on you?" She's steaming - I'm giggling like a sadistic child inside.

"You're a _bitch_," she growls quietly. Her pride is still keeping her voice down. I glance at her three friends, and she looks startled for a second and begins talking to keep my eyes on her. Damage is already done; I know these girls, and I know their ex-boyfriends. They list among several of the people Tia herself has destroyed - some even while they were in relationships with these other girls even, if my timeline is right- which I bet it is. "Look," she growls, "I don't give a fuck about your gay-boy fantasies." I cut her off.

"Is that so," I taunt, rolling my eyes and sitting back in my seat - my coffee is cold and my sandwich isn't enticing anymore. I don't really care about other people knowing I'm gay, they mean little to nothing to me. But as my eyes roll, I notice the three figures on the other side of the street, a forth walking up to them from the coffee stop next to them. I can see the singular violet eyes smiling at me, along with the two bright green that are watching me with interest. The pair of amber seem distracted on the forth approaching person. I smile a bit more and that violet eyes meets it.

"Sana," I direct it at the window, before looking to #24's right where a girl with bright brown eyes is sitting, her dark hair lose over her shoulders. She's a pretty girl - looks like a loyal friend too. Tia's eyes are startled as I glance at her - I know I'm right. "How's Edwin been?" Sana, the brown eyed girl looks confused. "You got back together a few weeks ago only, right?" A bit startled now. And then I look back at Tia. "Right, Tia?" She's glaring at me. "That's about the time you told him to take a hike, right?" She's fuming - Sana is looking between Tia and me with a quizzical expression.

I continue, pointing to the lone girl to #24's left, "Don was about three days before him, correct?" The girl to the left, Don's ex/now again girlfriend, looks at Tia now, too. Last girl to the right, is where my hand moves now, "While Harold won't get back with Gina over here, because he was one of the one's who was hoping you would crawl back to him and hired Grimm_jow_, to give you the ring-around." I smile as all three girls are now looking at their 'friend'. I lift the cold coffee, intent to finish it, adding, "Thanks, by the way- you paid our rent this month." I know there's a wicked smile on my face as I drink down the bitter, cold drink - _tastes like the victory of a Board Game_.

I remain blank-faced, as Tia's three friends make the scene that she didn't want too and storm out of the diner. I glance out the window as they leave and smile at the four men there. The tall one motions to the other three and they begin to the cross walk. They know I can take her - but they also know they'll get in trouble if I get hurt and they didn't do anything.

They've been like my bodyguards since Grimm started these game.

I turn back to the now fuming blond. "Now, _you_ listen," I tell her, leaning forward onto the table. My eyes lock with her boiling green ones as her anger threaten to spill over. "I would like for you to hear what I have to say and then get out of our lives." She's trying to not lash out I can tell, her arms are shaking with the need to strangle me.

"Grimmjow isn't, nor was he _ever_ your's," I tell her blankly. "It's women like you who make my skin crawl when they think they can _own_ something that would never look at them without incentive." She's confused now. "You aren't the first who has gotten a Purple end and come to _me_ demanding some kind of 'fix it' solution." I watch her, my gaze level against her bewildered eyes. "You are the eighth one to come to me like this, when your game was done, but you're the twenty-forth woman he's played against.

"And you're the twenty-forth one that he's finished with and come _right back_ to me," her face was now astounded. "If Grimmjow is anyone's, he's mine." I can feel the victory curl in my stomach as I watch the emotions flit through her eyes. "You'll walk away from this table, I know, and you'll hate me. I won't care. But after that, I want you to remember that I don't want to ever meet you again. I _do_ want you to walk away and pull you life back together- from the ground up if need be." Now she's confused.

"Grimmjow plays his games for a reason. He doesn't hate women," I find myself explaining this easily, because I know it will be the last time I get to. "Most females he's simply disgusted with- women like you. Woman like I hope you will try to change from. Women who only care for themselves and don't care who they take down along the way. 'Gold-Diggers,' if you will. The kind who go from man to man looking for a ruse- _fun_- or some kind of physical incentives. I understand you're in college, and I totally understand wanting to have a good time. But it doesn't have to hurt people, like those girls who thought you were their friend."

She seemed to be really thinking about it now. Good, because it's all true.

"I've taken numbers; asked around- and there are numerous people who would simply call you a horrid person." Her eyes are searching mine- I wonder if she's trying to figure out how I'm not affected by this. How I don't think she's a whore… _I'd be a hypocrite if I did_. And I suddenly have the strength to smile at her. "You're not a bad person," I conclude as I smile at her, lifting my coffee cup at the same time, "At least I don't think that. It's just that you haven't found something, or someone, to nail you down. Show you the bottom and then put the work in to helping you build back up."

My coffee is now cold enough that I can't really taste it, just feels wet on my lips. "And I know, we've forced you to the bottom, and you'll have to stand up all on your own now." I lean forward, closer to her as I set my coffee cup down. "But, oddly, I have faith in you. Which is something," I scoff, my muddy eyes locking with those deep forest ones, "Because the other seven who've come to me for their revenge, I didn't." Her eyes are confused and near desperate as she watches me. _Yeah, I do faith in her- somehow_. "I'm content in knowing you will pick yourself up. No matter how many times someone knocks you down, you'll get back up- by whatever means you are able to find. Just, Tia," I pause, "Trying relying on people a bit more. They're not all terrible."

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

_I know these things, because you're so much like me. So much of who I used to be._

_You won't chain Grimmjow to you. Because he's already willingly given me his chain, just to keep me grounded. He asks me for permission for these games because if he doesn't and I enter mid-way like I did your's- it would probably break us._

_He's my rock, and I'm the one he'll always hold down._

* * *

**-oOo-**

* * *

Nnoitra and Gin enter the diner as Tia just looks at me blankly. Her eyes search me as if she's trying to unravel my crazy. It's a little too tight for just looking. I'm able to grin at her a bit, "You should go." She just looks at me for a second, her eyes void before she nods a bit and stands, turns and stops. Her eyes landing on Nnoitra's daunting form and Gin's creepy smile. Ulquiorra and Szayel then enter just behind the two and I'm willing to bet her eyes are now bulging.

Nnoitra's height, Gin's creepy smile, Szayel's taunting eyes, and Ulquiorra's dispassionate face- yeah, she's probably shitting her pants where she now sits at rock bottom. I repeat myself, "You should go." Her eyes flick back to me and I smile a bit softer at her. Tia then nods and quickly makes her way to the door and slips passed then.

And like a gaggle of women, the four swoop down on me and taking positions at the too small table, order breakfast and we all continue like nothing happened.

I sigh. These are our friends.

Gin and Szayel are still flirting like a train-wreck, Ulquiorra begins texting halfway through his plate, and Nnoitra is oddly quiet this morning.

I understand why as I see him look up at the silver-haired man across from him and the pink-haired one between me and said silver-haired man. "Are you two ever gonna just bump uglies and get it over with?" There's a large silence for a moment, where Gin and Szayel just look at him oddly- possibly offended. Ulquiorra stops texting to look up and assess the situation, before, after only a short moment, returning to composing his text. I just watch as the tension between the three sizzles. "That's what I thought," Nnoitra suddenly declares before he returns to his eggs and hash browns.

Szayel at least had the decency to blush as I take a quick survey of the odd looks our table is getting again. Gin simply looks to his right where Ulquiorra sits. "Bitch," is all he comments before he to returns to his meal. Szayel looked confused.

"Sorry," Ulquiorra deadpans, "I just couldn't contain my excitement." And I chuckle a bit, because when he says it with such a dead voice the sentence makes me laugh. Szayel then began to grumble, apparently understanding that Ulquiorra- Gin's roommate- had told Nnoitra something that would have tipped him off to their 'bumping uglies'.

I smiles- these are our friend. And I think if they were any other people, we might be out of place.

* * *

_There are an innumerable number of people you will meet throughout your life. Many of them will have larger effects on your life than you will understand at that time you meet them. Some bad, some good. Most, though, will have no effect at all._

_Dedicated to the guy I have had a terrible effect on. _  
_Thanks for reading this very gloomy note in my life-_  
_Aseru._


End file.
